


The Things They Do

by Euterpein (harmharm130)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But seeing as it's a stupid-ass canon, I have elected to ignore it, I recognize that a canon has been established, Light BDSM, M/M, Other, Soft Boys, Tony Stark Has A Heart, good communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-03-13 11:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18939877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmharm130/pseuds/Euterpein
Summary: There's something odd about Steve and Bucky's friendship, and Tony can't help but try to figure out what it is. The fact that he might be a little bit in love with them both doesn't exactly help his curiosity.





	1. The Way They Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Doesn't take place at any particular point in the timeline, and I'm going to be ignoring almost all major events from Civil War onward. 
> 
> This is only my second fic so let me know what you think!

It was the way they fought.

Tony watched as Bucky and Steve came together for another round of sparring in the middle of the training room, looking for all the world like they actually intended to rip each other’s throats out. Blows fell full-force but almost never landed, each of the pair ducking and weaving effortlessly away from their opponent’s attacks before they could find their mark. It was a dance, and a familiar one at that. 

Sam came up to where he was leaning against the wall, still breathing hard from his and Tony’s last bout. They watched together as Bucky managed to catch Steve’s incoming punch with his metal arm, only to have it immediately wrenched out of his grip by an acrobatic flip that would have made a regular human sick. Sam nodded towards them.

“They don’t pull their punches, do they?” He took a swig from his bottle of water. Steve used his impromptu roll to push himself backwards off the floor, launching himself into Bucky with a force that made their little audience wince. Tony could almost swear he felt the room shake as they hit the ground. Sam continued, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say they were actually fighting.” 

“I’m just glad they’re fighting each other and not us,” Tony quipped. Both men were careful to scale their force down when they sparred with their unenhanced teammates, focused on honing strategy and style rather than winning, but Tony still nursed a few bruises from his last bout with the Captain. (Nobody else needed to know just how much he savored those bruises when he could get them.) Even Peter and Thor had walked away from one or two tussles walking a little funny. At least he knew he wasn’t being coddled. 

This, though, this was something else. Bucky used Steve’s tackle against him and rolled them until he was on top, metal arm holding Steve down by the neck. His other fist came down with bone-breaking viciousness only to be blocked by the hands Steve had just been using to grasp at his own throat. Steve used the opportunity to flip them over, and the tussle carried on.

“I don’t get it,” Sam said, watching the two super soldiers grapple, “Out of the ring they’re best friends. Steve treats Bucky like he could shatter any moment, and Bucky is the biggest dork I have EVER met. But face them off like this and...” He gestured back at the wrestling men as Steve dug his knee directly into Bucky’s ribs with enough force to break them. If it had been anyone else, they’d be facing weeks in a hospital bed. Bucky just grinned, wild and red-tinged from a bloodied nose, lunging suddenly upwards against Steve’s weight and managing to knock the other man off balance. Tony’s mouth went dry.

Most of the other training pairs in the room had stopped to watch the show. Natasha and Clint seemed vaguely impressed where they stood on the opposite side of the room, while Peter and Bruce looked on with something like worry. No one moved to stop the pair. It had been alarming when they’d first gone at it during group training sessions, confused at being pulled apart during a fight, but everyone was mostly used to it by now. Mostly.

Tony couldn’t help the creeping flush that made its way up his cheeks as he watched Steve and Bucky roll, grunting and violent, across the floor. The two men were gorgeous all the time, but like this? Sweat soaking through their ridiculously tight t-shirts and muscles bulging as they battled for dominance? He cursed his choice to wear sweatpants to group training, shifting uncomfortably where he leaned against the wall.

In the end, Bucky managed to slam Steve into the ground on his stomach, twisting both arms up his back at what must have been an intensely painful angle. “Call it!” he’d growled, grinding Steve’s face into the mat with his free hand. Steve struggled for a few valiant seconds, jerking hard and testing the hold his friend had on him, before admitting defeat.

“Fine, I’m done!” He sighed, letting himself go limp against the rubber matting.

The shift was instantaneous, and almost as disconcerting as the violence had been. Bucky was off his back in an instant. He helped Steve clamber to his feet, both of them beaming and laughing as if they hadn’t been beating each other to a pulp a moment before. The tension of the fight melted away, the soldiers’ stances effortlessly relaxed as they casually wiped the blood from their injuries and compared notes about their moves. The rest of the room breathed again. 

Sam shook his head. “Whatever, man. If beating each other up keeps ‘em happy that’s their own business. You up for another round?” Tony nodded.

“Yeah, bird brain. Hit me.” Sam stashed his bottle again and they squared off, circling slowly with arms loose to their sides. They traded a few quick blows, testing for weak spots but not committing. Tony lunged first, nearly landing a punch on Sam’s stomach but skidding to a halt as the man caught on and dodged out of the way at the last second. He spun around to defend himself. 

Instead of an attacking Sam, though, his eyes fell on Bucky and Steve. They had taken on the role of bystanders, leaning casually against the far wall and watching the rest of their teammates’ bouts. Watching Tony. The unexpected eye contact with both men caught him off guard and he hesitated just a moment too long, unable to tear his eyes away. Sam tackled him to the ground easily as he stood dumbstruck and unmoving. They rolled, Tony cursing his lapse in attention, until Sam used his disorientation against him and pinned him to the ground on his back. He let his head drop back against the mat, groaning.

“You’re supposed to take pity on me. I’m an old man, remember?

Sam just smirked. “You only use that as an excuse when you’re losing. You know you’re gonna get another one of Cap’s patented lectures on getting distracted while you’re fighting, right?” He drew himself up off of Tony, helping the prone man get stiffly to his feet as well.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony said sorrowfully, pointedly rubbing his bruised shoulder as Sam grinned unapologetically. “I can already hear the patriotic theme music.”

Sam laughed, clapping Tony on the back and wandering off to go find his water bottle. Tony risked a glance over to where Steve and Bucky stood. Rather than the disappointment or entertainment he was expecting, he found twin looks of pure mischief on the super soldiers’ faces. His heart skipped a beat. They were looking directly at him, slight smiles curling their lips. Bucky turned to whisper something in Steve’s ear that made his smile widen and his eyes burn with something that made Tony’s heart beat faster and his stomach drop.

He’d been caught.


	2. The Way They Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mild injury, hints at canon-compliant trauma (Bucky's brainwashing, etc) and some cussing. Nothing crazy.

Tony stared up at the dark, blank ceiling, trying to resist the urge to ask Friday for the time. Again. Last he’d checked it had been just after 4:30 in the morning, and he knew a depressingly short amount of time had passed since then. Insomnia like this was nothing new for Tony, though he’d noticed with resignation that it’d gotten worse since he’d been elevated from “megalomaniac vigilante” to “planetary hero;” now he was just treated to a bit of a wider selection of nightmare visions when he closed his eyes. Nothing like almost suffocating to death on the wrong side of an inter spatial rift to make you long for the simplicity of your dead parents. 

Tonight, his brain was focused on Peter. Namely, all the ways the kid could get himself killed and tear another hole in Tony’s already shredded existence. Maybe the last one. Peter had stuck around after training, using the lack of school the next day as an excuse to bond with the team a little. It did Tony’s heart good to see him settling in. But as he got closer to the kid, more attached, he could feel the alarm bells going off that he always felt when he started to make room in his life for someone. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep he’d see the kid getting blasted by Loki’s scepter (he wasn’t even in that battle! he tried to tell himself, with no luck), caught by a stray bullet from some low-life whose victim Peter was trying to save, or just miscalculating a tiny bit on the sling of his webs, missing by an inch and plummeting down to the sidewalk that was way too far below...

Tony sighed, defeated. “Friday, lights.” 

“You sure about that, boss?” Came the immediate reply. “It’s early, even for you.” Despite this, she dutifully brought the lights up to a dim glow. His lips twitched.

“More like late, Fri. Can’t sleep, I think I’m gonna go down to the lab and work some more on Spidey’s next suit upgrade.” He swung his legs off the side of the bed, still feeling slow and weighed down with exhaustion but electing to ignore it almost out of habit. 

“I’ll start the coffee for you.” she said, her very-nearly-human voice free of judgement. He smiled.

“What would I do without you, doll?” Tony got up, throwing a plain black t-shirt over the Iron-Man boxers Pepper had given him one year and calling that decent enough. 

“Suffer, probably.” Friday responded airily. Chuckling, Tony slipped out into the still-dark hallway.

It had been Tony’s idea to have everyone move into the tower. He’d cleared out the entire floor just under the penthouse, pulling out the offices that had been there and replacing them with a series of spacious rooms around the outside edge with a communal living and dining space in the center. The penthouse itself had been renovated into the Avengers’ war room, everything from holo-tables for strategizing to backups of everyone’s uniforms within easy reach of the roof and launch deck. His logic had been that having everyone living together would cut response times in case of an emergency, which was actually true; anyone who happened to be around to respond could be suited and on the Quinjet within 10 minutes. Secretly, having the other Avengers around all the time, provided and cared for by Tony, made him feel more like a part of something. More like they were a family.

The downside of this arrangement, of course, was that he had to sneak around his own home when he was up and about at nearly five in the morning. It was a trade-off. He made his way quietly down the dark hallway past Steve’s door, heading for the communal kitchen at the center of the floor. Friday had brought the lights up slightly here, too, dimly illuminating the state-of-the-art appliances without spilling over the breakfast bar into the TV area or hallway too much. True to her word, she had also started the coffee. The glorious smell of a fresh brew rolled out from its recessed panel by the sink, breaking through Tony’s exhaustion-induced fog enough to propel him forward. He grabbed a clean mug from the cabinet and took the steaming pot by the handle, focused on not spilling despite his fogginess.

“You’re up early.” 

Tony jerked so hard in surprise at the unexpected voice, too close behind him, that the coffee pot slipped right out of his grip. 

It seemed to fall in slow motion; Tony was barely able to turn quickly enough to see Bucky snatch at it with staggeringly quick reflexes. He caught it with his non-metal hand along its base, gravity taking its inevitable toll in the cascade of burning hot liquid that splashed up his arm as it fell. Bucky didn’t scream. The glass of the pot must have been searing and the places on his arm where the coffee had fallen were splotchy and red in an instant, but he seemed frozen in a look of mild surprise, as though his body had moved without him and he hadn’t quite caught up to it. Years of fighting and repeated first aid training kicked Tony into gear, snatching the pot by its handle and moving it on to the counter quickly. He grabbed Bucky by the elbow and dragged him over to the sink to plunge the entire arm into the faucet’s cold spray. 

It was only a scant few seconds, but it felt like hours to Tony once it was over. His head was still spinning, and his breathing picked up in a delayed panic. He spit out, “You have got to WARN a guy before you sneak up on him like that! What the hell, Barnes?” He hoped he didn’t sound too hysterical. 

Bucky blinked a few times, seemingly still lost in the odd calm for a few moments. “Sorry,” he managed, finally catching up, “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Tony snorted inelegantly, starting to shake a little with the come-down from adrenaline. 

 

“Friday, there a first aid kit up here?” Tony asked, already looking around for what should be a well-marked storage area. He was still physically holding Bucky’s arm under the spray of water, though whether that was for Bucky’s benefit or that of his own shaking hands he wasn’t quite sure. The other man still seemed disturbingly calm and it wasn’t helping Tony keep his nerves in check.

“I’ll be alright.” Bucky insisted after Friday had stated where the first aid kit could be found and Tony left him with a stern command to leave his hand where it was. “You know I heal fast.” Tony leveled him with his best glare as he came back around the bar. 

“I don’t give a shit how fast you heal. Right now you’ve got first-degree burns, and possibly some second thrown in there from the look of your palm.” Even through the cascading water he could see the rise of blisters on the heel of Bucky’s hand, though admittedly his forearm was already starting to look a little calmer. “I’m going to put this burn cream on you,” he waved the tube around in a vaguely threatening manner, “and you’re gonna let me. Capisce?” 

Bucky seemed to think about speaking for a moment, but the hard look in Tony’s eyes brooked no argument. He nodded. Tony turned off the faucet, holding Bucky’s upturned arm and using it to gently steer them both into the stools that sat tucked up against the bar. He set about the delicate task of applying the cream to damaged skin without causing any more pain than necessary. His eyes flicked up to Bucky’s every few seconds to gauge his reactions, but Bucky didn’t wince or flinch, even when he had to work the cream into the worst of the burn. Tony wasn’t sure to be relieved or even more worried. 

“What were you doing creeping up on me, anyway?” Tony said, mostly to fill the increasingly awkward silence. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s almost morning.” Bucky returned easily, then looked a little sheepish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came out here to read. I honestly didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but sometimes I... forget to move so people can hear me. Forget how not to hide.”

They fell silent again, the words heavy between them. Tony suddenly felt more exhausted than he had when he had woken up. He finished wrapping the thin cotton bandages around Bucky’s palm and fingers, packed up the first aid kit, and stashed it back in its cabinet before going about the business of making more coffee. Bucky watched him at it, deceptively softened eyes tracking his puttering movements.

“What about you?” Bucky finally asked as Tony placed the freshly washed pot into its little alcove. “Why are you up in ‘the middle of the night?’” 

Tony paused for just a moment, caught, before continuing with as much nonchalance as he could manage. “Couldn’t sleep either. Must be going around.” 

“Nightmares?” Bucky’s face was unreadable.

“Something like that. Not unusual. How do you take your coffee?”

Bucky seemed surprised enough at the offer to let the subject drop. Tony made up two cups of coffee-- milk but no sugar for him, sugar but no milk for Bucky, and settled on the bar stool again, setting the mugs down gently. They shared a few moments of companionable silence as they sipped. Tony allowed himself to actually look at the other man for a moment; his shoulder-length hair was half pulled up in what Tony had mentally dubbed his “Aragorn ‘do,” soft strands curling gently at the ends. He had deep circles under his eyes, though that was nothing new. He wore a soft gray t-shirt and loose pajama pants, feet bare against the hardwood. He looked so different here, in this moment, than he had this afternoon in the gym. This soft and vulnerable creature barely looked like the same person as that hardened fighting machine with or without the metal arm. 

Maybe it was because of his exhaustion, or maybe it was the dream-like quality of the situation, but Tony found himself blurting out “Why do you and Steve fight like that?” before his brain could catch up to his mouth. He took a hurried gulp of his still-too-hot coffee to try and cover his panic.

Bucky just pulled his brows together, adorably confused. “Like what?”

Tony’s brows rose, and he lowered his mug back to the counter. “Like it’s your tenth birthdays and you’ve both been told the other was a piñata full of candy?”

Bucky’s confusion deepened as he processed this, but his expression cleared after a few moments. “Oh, that.” Tony waited for an elaboration. Bucky seemed to be thinking about it, and he didn’t want to rush the man and risk him clamming up when this was easily the most he’d ever heard out of him in one sitting. 

“I think it’s a little different for both of us.” Bucky began, slowly and thoughtfully, gazing down into his black coffee with a look of concentration on his face. “But it kinda comes down to the same thing. We were both so controlled, for so long. For him it was mostly self-control, for me, well. You know.” He glances up at Tony for just a moment, haunted, but doesn’t linger. “When we’re training others we have to pull our punches. When we’re fighting in the field we have to be constantly aware of what’s going on with the team, with bystanders, with everything. When we’re fighting each other we can just go.” He tightened his metal hand into a fist, as though in demonstration. “Take control of the situation, fight for it, play with it, without having to worry about the consequences. It’s... refreshing.”

“Oh.” Tony replied, lamely, not sure what else to say. 

“‘Course, the fact that we’re both toppy bastards doesn’t hurt.”

Tony choked on his coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one end a chapter?? The world may never know


	3. Chapter 3

Of all the things Tony had expected to hear from Bucky about his and Steve’s fighting, all the possible explanations and revelations, that... hadn’t been one of them.

Bucky looked on with mild concern as Tony got control over himself, thankfully managing not to spray the coffee he’d just sipped all over the place as he coughed and hacked. Steve had warned him that Bucky’s brain-to-mouth filter might not be entirely intact; 70-odd years of brainwashing only to have to put pieces of yourself back together again would do that for you. It was part of why he stayed so quiet all the time and thought so much about his words before he did speak. He didn’t seem embarrassed at having slipped up in his diligence, though, his face betraying only slight confusion at Tony’s fit.

After some effort and a few moments of controlled breathing, Tony finally managed “Yeah, I could. Uh. See why.” He shifted uncomfortably in the bar stool, hoping he could blame the blush creeping up his cheeks on the coughing fit. “I, uh. I didn’t realize you two were. Involved. Like that.” Tony mentally kicked himself. “If you are, I mean. Are you...?”

Bucky’s eyes widened in something like shock. “Yeah, ‘course we are. You didn’t know?” 

Tony shook his head. “Some of the team had their suspicions,” Tony reminded himself to give Nat the fifty he apparently owed her, damn the woman, “but no, we just thought you were, you know. Close.” 

Bucky huffed a little and shook his head, a small smile playing around his lips. “Aw, shit. Wait’ll I tell Steve. We thought we were so obvious.” He chuckled. “I guess we’re not exactly touchy-feely. That kinda thing got you in trouble in our day.” 

“Not touchy-feely, no.” Tony agreed, letting himself relax into Bucky’s amusement despite his stupid traitor of a heart still beating uncontrollably. “Maybe a little bit ‘gaze longingly at each other-y.’”   
Bucky smiled widely at that. Tony was struck by it, how it chased away the perpetually haunted look from the man’s eyes, even if only for a moment. “We’re guilty of that, true.” His smile turned a little more mischievous. “Though I think we’re not the only ones, huh, Tin Man?” 

Tony was suddenly reminded of the incident yesterday morning in the gym, getting caught up in the mens’ gazes and letting his guard down embarrassingly. His breathing picked up, excuses and diversions sticking in his throat in his panic. His normal route would have been to laugh off the whole thing, spin some ‘Can you blame me when you look that good?’ line and pretend it never happened, but something in Bucky’s eyes stopped him. They were mischievous, sure, but also searching. Waiting. Analyzing.

Luckily, before any of the increasingly ill-advised responses clamoring around his head could force their way out of his mouth, Steve walked in. He had obviously just woken up; he was in a slate-gray t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms that were a little too tight on him, and he rubbed his eyes blearily as he crossed into the room. He was obviously surprised to see Tony and Bucky already there.

Tony tried not to let any guilt show on his face, and mostly succeeded. After all, despite the odd little bubble of intimacy his conversation with Bucky had taken place in, they hadn’t done anything wrong. It was probably just him being hyper-aware of his stupid body’s (and heart’s) reaction to being this close to either of them, and how much more inappropriate it felt now he knew they were together. Not that it helped.

“Mornin’ doll.” Bucky drawled, to the obvious surprise of both Steve and Tony. 

Steve smiled, soft, all traces of yesterday’s black eye faded with his buckled-up demeanor. “Hey, Buck. Tony. What’re you two doing up so early?” Without waiting for an answer, he wandered over to the coffee pot and filled himself a mug. Bucky shared a look with Tony, eyebrows raised as if in question, before saying, “Couldn’t sleep. Neither could Tin Man here. You off on your run?” 

Steve hummed in acknowledgement, puttering over to the stool next to Bucky’s and turning it inward to face the two of them better before slipping into it. “I am,” he confirmed, “but it can wait a little bit. ‘M having a hard time waking up this morning.” His eyes lit on Bucky’s wrapped hand as he took his first grateful draught of coffee and he frowned. “What happened there?” 

Tony cleared his throat. “My fault, I’m afraid. Your guy startled me and I, uh, dropped the coffee pot on him. A bit.”

“I did have it coming, to be fair.” Bucky pointed out. 

“Yeah, well, your natural state of being is ‘has it coming,’ what with all the pranks you pull on Sam.” Tony argues, shooting a cheeky wink in Steve’s direction, who grins back.

They settled into playful banter, a familiar and comfortable state of being for the three of them. They’d never made it to the realm of friends, quite, and Tony still sometimes butted heads with Steve when it came to Avengers business, but it was hard to deny that they enjoyed each other’s company. Bucky’s rescue and integration into the team seemed to lift an enormous burden off Steve’s shoulders. He laughed easier now, adjusted a little more every day to the future rather than feeling always one foot in the past. It had taken off some of the sheen of being America’s hero-slash-sweetheart and made him seem much more approachable. It made Tony ache for him even more.

At some point during the conversation, which consisted of far more time and pots of coffee than any of them had intended and definitely did not involve Steve leaving to go on a run, Bucky slid his metal arm around Steve’s waist to drape casually. Tony caught the questioning look Steve shot at him but nobody mentioned it aloud. They continued on, casually not mentioning the slow, soothing circles Bucky’s thumb was making along Steve’s lower back that Tony swore he could feel in his bones even though he could only see the impression of them in the way Steve’s shirt twitched and bunched. It drove Tony mad, but it was the sweetest kind of torture.

Eventually, the rest of the team started filtering in to the kitchen. Caffeine was a common vice among superheroes, it seemed, and their little conversation circle kept growing. Tony half expected to feel disappointed at having his alone time with Bucky and Steve cut short. But as he looked around the table, at all their relaxed faces and easy smiles, he couldn’t help feeling that this is how it should always be. Or almost, at least.

He couldn’t quite miss the looks the two of them would send his direction every now and again, watchful, wanting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are your feelings on shorter chapters more often vs. longer chapters less often?


	4. The Way They Love

Steve finally got around to taking his run after breakfast. The late hour had meant he had to deal with the creeping summer heat and the crowds of tourists jamming the sidewalks, but the lazy morning with the team had been worth it. When he got back Bucky was in nearly the same position he’d been left in; curled up in the squishy armchair in Steve’s room reading a book*, sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows giving him a golden corona that made him look positively angelic. Steve couldn’t decide whether it made him want to draw him or kiss him.

 

*(Today’s selection was Neil Gaiman’s  _ The Ocean at the End of the Lane _ . He’d gotten a library card as soon as he’d blown through Bruce’s personal book collection, despite Tony’s insistence that he could just buy whatever books he wanted, and could be seen walking with a bag full of novels to be traded out for fresh ones at least once a week. He’d told Steve it was his way of catching up with modern culture, as he’d never quite gotten comfortable with TVs.)

 

Steve showered, switched into fresh clothes, and settled down on the couch to draw his lover. Unless a call came to Assemble he didn’t have anywhere to be until this evening and he intended to enjoy the quiet day. The short, measured movements of his charcoal against the paper almost mirrored the way Bucky’s eyes darted across the pages of his book, the gentle  _ swish swish  _ it made the only sound in the comfortable silence as it stretched on indeterminably. 

 

Eventually Bucky turned the final page and read the last few lines of the volume he held. He closed the back cover and tilted his head up to the light, eyes closed, presumably letting the story’s conclusion wash over him as he slowly returned to the real world. He looked like he was praying. Steve smiled, pleased to have caught this gentle moment.

 

“Good book?” He said softly, after Bucky let his eyes fall open again. Bucky nodded. 

 

“‘S good.” He confirmed. “A little sad.” Steve carefully put his drawing down on the table, the sketchy version of Bucky caught in that perfect moment of serenity, and made his way over to the armchair to give Bucky a gentle kiss on the forehead. He’d only intended it to be a brush of contact, just a small gesture of empathy and comfort, but Bucky brought one calloused hand up to the side of Steve’s face and drew him down to his lips for a deep and unhurried kiss. The angle was a little awkward with Steve bending over to meet Bucky’s upturned face, but neither of them could bring it upon themselves to care. Bucky clung to him, desperately, both hands gripping the soft cotton of Steve’s shirt. He kissed him as though he was afraid Steve might not still be there if he stopped.

 

Steve was perfectly content to stay and be kissed like this forever, but gentleness rarely lasted long between them. Before long he brought his knees down on either side of Bucky’s, the armchair creaking dangerously from the combined weight, and pressed himself in completely to Bucky’s warmth. Bucky laughed, a little breathless. 

 

“Can you believe the team didn’t know we were together?” He sighed as Steve laid burning kisses down the side of his neck. “Always feels like we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

 

Steve pulled back. “They didn’t know?”

 

“Oh!” The lust glazing over Bucky’s expression seemed to clear a little as he thought through the morning’s interactions. “Forgot. Yeah, Tony told me. Weird, right? And we thought we should try to tone it down.” He chuckled, shaking his head, and drew Steve back in.

 

“Speaking of, you and Tony seemed to be having a cozy little time this morning.” Steve teased as he drew back to drag both his and Bucky’s shirts off over their heads. Bucky’s grin widened into a smirk. 

 

“Yeah, nothing like second-degree burns to start off an intimate moment.” Bucky chuckled as Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re not wrong though. I think that thing in the gym yesterday may not have been a fluke.” Steve hummed acknowledgment, nosing at the pulse point under Bucky’s jaw. He loved feeling its steady beat pick up as he licked it and dug his teeth into the soft flesh. 

 

Their pawing and kissing always got more violent as they went on. Sweet intimacy gave way quickly to raw lust and need, drawing them together for increasingly teeth-laden kisses and bruising grips. They both loved it, the giving and taking, the pain and the pleasure, the wrestle for control. Steve wondered if Tony did too. The lust and endorphins made him just brave enough to whisper as much into Bucky’s ear.

 

“I bet he does.” Bucky answered, much more confidently, tightening his grip in Steve’s short hair and driving his hips up to meet Steve’s as teeth dig harshly and wonderfully into his neck again. “I bet he likes it rough. I bet he’d let us take him apart, mark him up. Let us fuck him. I bet he’d just  _ take it _ .” The last two words were punctuated by particularly forceful thrusts, and the combination caused Steve to moan long and loud. 

 

“Bed.” He panted, dragging Bucky backwards off the chair without pausing in kissing him. “Now.” 

 

Bucky seemed all too happy to oblige.

 

\--------

 

After breakfast, Tony went down to the workshop. 

 

One side effect of stepping back from being CEO and moving the other Avengers into the tower was that his days became much more predictable. Pepper handled the vast majority of day-to-day Stark Industries business while Steve and Rhodey handled liaisons with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the military, respectively. Overall, Tony liked this arrangement. It meant he could spend much less time talking to people he didn’t like and much more time fiddling with whatever project he was working on, though with so many personal and professional connections vying for the fruits of his inventing he couldn’t escape the politics entirely. 

 

In general, he would make his way down to the workshop in the early morning and work there until evening. Once Friday or one of his teammates finally dragged him out for food he’d spend time in the common spaces with whoever happened to be around or in his room working on personal projects. Sometimes he would still make appearances at charity events or galas, but for the most part his partying days seemed to be over. This was both relieving in that his self-destructive behavior was obviously not good for him (and put disappointed looks on Steve and Nat’s faces that he just couldn’t handle, not anymore) and a little frightening. He’d defined his entire existence by defying other people’s desires and expectations; he wasn’t sure he knew who he was when he wasn’t rebelling or drinking to forget. As he settled into this new, relatively quieter life, he couldn’t quite help but feel like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

 

Today, the lack of sleep and rapid-fire emotional swings of the morning left him feeling a little off kilter. He made his way down to the workshop after everyone wandered off from coffee with every intention of getting started on Peter’s new suit upgrade, only to find a note from Pepper reminding him that he’d promised to work on the new StarkPad model he was supposed to have finished a week ago. He’d been putting it off. He sighed, grumbling a little to himself about his new responsible persona, before bringing the schematics up on the nearest holographic workstation. 

 

It only took him a few hours to get enough together for the StarkPad to send off to R&D for testing, but it felt like an age. He normally didn’t mind upgrade work; he liked the idea of finding little ways to make sure his tech was the best and least forced-obselescence-y out there. But the dream-like quality of the morning was rapidly giving way to the anxiety of his insomnia, and he couldn’t help his brain from turning away from the StarkPad and towards Peter’s suit. Still, he forced himself through it and sent the schematics off with a little attached note to Pepper before he allowed himself to get fully diverted. 

 

The hours blurred themselves together quickly, and he was deep into a materials testing trial when Peter walked into the lab. 

 

“Hey kid,” Tony said, trying to cover his startlement at the sound of the door sliding open, “How was school?” He wiped his hands on an already hopelessly greasy rag and chided himself for losing track of time so badly. 

 

Peter was his usual ray of sunshine, sliding his backpack off his shoulders and beaming at Tony. 

 

“Hey Mr. Stark! It was pretty good.” His face took on an odd long-suffering look. “Ned figured out how my Spidey-senses worked and started throwing stuff at my head to see if I could sense them, though.” Tony just laughed.

 

“Good on him.” Tony insisted, teasing lightly. He realized that every workstation on the outside wall of the lab was piled with equipment and moved to clear off a space for the kid to work. “Gotta keep those instincts sharp. Might save your life one day.” He’d meant it jokingly, but the thought made his anxious nighttime visions flash before his eyes again and he had to turn away to hide his grimace.

 

Tony walked Peter through the results of the testing he’d been doing for the past few hours. They’d been collaborating on an ultra-resistant silicon-and-aluminum-based material that clung to the skin for maximum flexibility but could absorb and deflect impacts like kevlar. They’d had some extremely promising early results; one of their latest blobs of nylon-like goo had gone from oozing gently to hard as rock quickly enough to stop a bullet. Now, they were working on integrating nanotechnology and seeing if they could get a good, weavable polymer out of the ooze. 

 

Tony was self aware enough to admit (though admittedly probably not aloud) that a lot of the actual chemistry went a bit over his head. It wasn’t that he wasn’t  _ capable  _ of understanding it if he really applied himself, it was just that on the first day of the project Peter and Friday had started chatting happily about  _ overlapping sp3 molecular orbitals _ and  _ silicon tetrahedral and aluminum-magnesium octahedral sheets _ and Tony had nearly wept from boredom within an hour. He was an engineer; he was happy to do the more hands-on work while Peter and Friday handled the chemical theory. It didn’t hurt that Peter being so capable of handling such advanced and real-world chemistry left him with a large blossom of pride beneath his chest whenever he thought about it.

 

They whiled away the time in companionable silence. Peter’s holographic workstation swirled with the ghostly impressions of atoms and nanobots, which he manipulated into ever-larger molecular structures and subjected to a battery of projected tests to determine which combinations would be worth bringing into the real world. Tony worked on tweaking Peter’s suit, which he’d brought in his backpack from school, frowning slightly at the repair report from the nanobots’ logs. Three tears, one scrape, and one knife cut that had been mended seamlessly by the tiny robots. Tony just sighed, rubbed his eyes, and tried to focus on making sure the suit would be ready for whatever happened next.

 

A little later, he was roused by the sudden loud grumbling of Peter’s stomach. The kid looked just as surprised as Tony did, tearing his eyes away from the projection in front of him to look down at himself in confusion. Tony laughed.

 

“I think that may be our alarm bell, kid.” He chuckled, shaking his head as Peter grinned back sheepishly. “Fri, what’s the time?” 

 

“It’s 7:10.” The cool voice of the AI supplied. “I believe Steve is cooking tonight.” Both Tony and Peter perked up at that. Steve’s cooking was always simple but delicious, unlike Clint’s dubious concoctions and Nat’s overly complex fine cuisine that always meant they didn’t eat until after 10.

 

“What do you think, kid?” Tony asked. “Had enough for tonight?” 

 

Peter smiled, dismissing the confusing array of what now looked like polymerized matrices with a flick of his hand. “Yeah, Mr. Stark,” he said, sliding off the uncomfortable lab stool he’d been slouching in and stretching his limbs, “Let’s go see what everyone’s up to.”

 

\---------------

 

Dinner turned out to be as distressingly intimate an affair as coffee had been. Natasha and Clint had been pulled out on a mission in the afternoon, which Tony had apparently been notified of but had been too absorbed in his work to register. Bruce had been away for a week, and apparently everyone else who might have stopped by weren’t inclined to do so this evening. Tony couldn’t blame them; they all deserved a break. This left Tony, Peter, Steve, and Bucky alone in the sprawling kitchen of the shared living quarters. Three of his favorite people in the same place, which was wonderful, but also two men he had a huge and embarrassing crush on and his protégé-slash-surrogate son creating the perfect little vision of the family he couldn’t have. Tony sighed, waving it off as the result of a long day when Bucky looked at him with concern, and accepted the small glass of red wine that Bucky carefully placed on the counter for him.

 

Steve made baked ziti, heavy on the ricotta and italian sausage and baked to perfection. The adults sipped wine. They chatted about Peter’s classes, about his and Tony’s current project, about what Bucky had been reading. It was cozy. It was intimate. It made Tony’s heart ache in all the best and worst ways, being a part of this small bubble of home and comfort. He took carefully measured sips of his wine, just enough to feel the warmth, not trusting what he might say if he let it take him entirely.

 

Peter said goodbye around 9:30, opting to tug on the new-and-improved Spidersuit and swing right out the window rather than attempt to navigate Friday night foot traffic. Tony insisted on helping wash the dishes and clean up after the meal. The three of them moved effortlessly around each other, passing dishes to be washed, dried, and put away with a practiced ease that didn’t really make much sense for their shared experience but which went without comment so the moment wasn’t ruined. 

 

After the kitchen shone, Tony hesitated. He didn’t really want to leave Steve and Bucky’s company, but he also didn’t want to intrude on the quiet night they deserved to spend together. He hovered for a moment. Luckily, Bucky picked up on his dilemma and offered, quietly, “You wanna hang out with us for a while, Tin Man? Not so sure I’m sleepy yet.”

 

Tony was exhausted beyond words.

 

He accepted anyway. 

 

They sat down on the huge L-shaped couch in the TV room attached to the shared kitchen. They chatted for a while, Steve and Bucky sitting close enough that their sides were flush together and Tony sprawled inelegantly to face them, all still sipping their wine. 

 

After a bit of a lull, Steve and Bucky shared a look that was laden with meaning but that Tony couldn’t quite interpret. Exhaustion and alcohol made him loose and unconcerned, content to watch their silent communications and wonder what it would be like to have that with them. Either of them. Both of them?

 

Steve cut off this slightly wobbly train of thought. “Tony.” He began, aiming for steady but with nerves obvious beneath the words, “We were wondering, or... we were hoping to talk to you about something.” Tony frowned, sitting up slightly. Those words rarely meant good things.

 

“What’s up?” He tried not to sound nervous or guilty, looking between them to try and gauge their expressions.

 

Steve cleared his throat, continuing: “We saw you looking at us at the gym yesterday,” Tony’s heart plummeted.  _ Oh god,  _ he thought frantically,  _ they know. They think I’m some kind of freak. Shit. SHIT!  _ He inhaled sharply, but Steve pushed on, determined. “We talked about it, well,  _ have been  _ talking about it, and we were wondering if...” Steve trailed off, trying to find words that apparently wouldn’t come.

 

_ It’s cause he’s too nice. _ Tony thought, a little hysterically.  _ He can’t tell me to fuck off because he’s too nice. God, I’m a monster.  _

 

“We were wondering if maybe you would wanna go out on a date some time.” Bucky supplied, taking pity on Steve. Tony’s brain ground to a halt. He ran that sentence back through his mind, then again, trying to get it to make sense. Outwardly, he gaped like a fish.

 

“A date?” He managed, a little weakly.

 

“Not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Steve assured him, frowning a bit at what must have been distress on Tony’s face, “Only if you want to.”

 

“With... both of you?” Tony asked. He thought it might have come out a little stunned. 

 

Bucky smiled softly, taking Tony’s hand gently between his own and running his thumbs over Tony’s knuckles in a surprisingly comforting gesture.

 

“Yeah, doll,” He said as Steve nodded, “both of us. If you want to.”

 

In this moment, Tony couldn’t think of a single goddamn thing he wanted more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, almost smut finally! When will the actual smut happen? Who knows!! Certainly not me. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience and support. It's been a crazy summer.


	5. The Way They Fly

Tony spent the better part of the night after they’d asked him out trying to think of where they might take him. There just weren’t many places for three highly recognizable superheroes to go out on a date and have any privacy, even in a city that gave as few shits as New York. They’d settled on Monday evening, at least, and Steve and Bucky had insisted that Tony sit back and let them surprise him. 

 

Tony did not like surprises.

 

He was willing to try, though, for them. For this impossible fantasy Tony was still a little dazed he’d stumbled into. After a while he had to tell himself to stop thinking about it; if he kept obsessively picking at threads the whole damn thing might unravel. Instead, he focused on his routine. He spent time in the workshop. Rhodey managed to get away Sunday night and they got to catch up, swapping stories over beer, and the normality of it was grounding.

 

He did let himself notice and savor the looks Steve and Bucky would send his way any time they were in the same room together; subtle little glances laced with longing and just a little heat. From the outside not much had changed between the three of them after their little conversation. This thing they had was too new and too undefined to start broadcasting to the rest of the team, too delicate to be openly acknowledged, but Tony noticed the little things. All three of them were less guarded with their soft looks and easy smiles, with gentle brushes of fingers as they passed coffee cups and remotes, with the way their breathing would pick up and their cheeks would pink slightly whenever they touched. Tony felt like a teenager again with how much such simple gestures were affecting him.

 

On Monday, Tony made himself go through the motions of normalcy despite the cocktail of excitement and nerves swimming through his mind. He worked on tweaking the nanobots intended for his and Peter’s resistant goop (and justified it to himself by reasoning that if they could perfect the stuff it could save a lot more lives than just Peter’s, which was true), ignoring the way his hands shook slightly as they slid across the sleek work table until he finally fell into his familiar hyperfixative groove. 

 

Peter himself came into the workshop in the afternoon once school had let out. He took one look at Tony’s surprised face, back bowed and shoulders tight after what had probably been hours hunched over the project, and dragged him away for a snack and a cup of coffee. 

 

The look Peter gave him as he watched Tony tuck into a wrap was full of an exasperated affection beyond his age. “You know, Mr. Stark, sometimes when I go home for the day I worry I’m gonna come back and find you right where I left you. Doesn’t Friday remind you when to eat?”

 

“She does,” Tony confirms, taking a sip of his coffee, “and when to sleep. But I generally ignore her.” Peter sighed heavily, trying to be stern and reprimanding but not quite fighting off the smile tugging at his lips. His own ‘wrap’ was more of a giant horde of meat and veggies that happened to be piled onto a tortilla, but he tucked into it with the kind of gusto only the (slightly horrifying) combination of teenagerdom and a super-human metabolism could produce. 

 

“Oh!” Tony’s evening plans came back to him in a rush as he bemusedly watched the display. “By the way, I’ll probably have to duck out at around 5:30 tonight. I did some work on the nanobots today to try and adjust for the issues you’ve been having. Friday can pull them up for you if you want to test them, or if you want to go home a little early you can.” 

 

“What?” Peter looked up from his food, beaming. “I’ll definitely stay and work on the SuperGoop. But where are you off to? Wild Stark Industries rager?”

 

Tony raised his eyebrows at the unofficial nickname for their project and the implication that Stark Industries, number one purveyor of precision technological engineering on the planet, would throw anything that could be described as a  ‘wild rager.’ 

 

“If you must know,” he said, amused, “I’ve got a hot date.” He gave Peter a good-natured wink.

 

“Yeah?” Peter sounded pleased. “Good,” he said, turning back to his ‘snack.’ “You deserve one.” Tony just stared back at him, a little stricken. That hadn’t been the reaction he’d been expecting at all, and he wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

At 5:30, Tony left Peter happily testing out the new nanobot designs to take the elevator back up to the residential floor. It was blessedly empty as he moved towards his rooms. He was pretty sure if he had to talk to anyone he’d be a stumbling mess. He slipped out of his clothes and took a long, hot shower, letting the spray relax his stiff muscles and ease his nervous shaking. 

 

 _What happened to the confident playboy who could make anyone lose their pants with a look?_ He thought as he washed his hair, annoyed with himself. _Since when am I this nervous about a date?_ _Was I like this with Pepper?_ He tried to remember. He thought he might have been nervous, could remember the desperation to impress and please her when he first started taking interest, but not this bone-deep fear of fucking it up that seemed to be taking him over. Then again, he’d also just gotten back from Afghanistan and had a few other things on his mind. That was before Jarvis, before the Chitauri invasion, HYDRA. Before Pepper had dumped him, wisely, more kindly than he’d deserved after all he’d put her through. Maybe he was so nervous because it felt like a last chance. Maybe he was just different now, a changed man. He stepped out of the shower. 

 

He dithered a little bit over what to wear. This is one of the reasons Tony didn’t like surprises; if he didn’t know where they were going, he couldn’t dress appropriately, and being sharp always made him feel more in control of the situation.

 

“Friday,” he said, contemplating a selection of shirts he’d laid out on his ridiculously huge bed, “I don’t suppose you’d give me a hint about what the boys have planned for me tonight, would you?” 

 

“Captain Rogers has requested I keep that information classified except in an emergency, boss.” Friday responded, managing to sound amused despite the perfectly professional tone.

 

“Not even a tiny clue so I know what to wear?”

 

“Would you like me to put a message through to them, boss?” Friday asked.

 

Tony thought about this. It would solve his clothing dilemma, but A) he knew that the clothing thing was just his anxiety anyway and B) he’s not sure he could think of anything that screamed ‘HEY I’M SUPER NERVOUS’ more than calling to ask what he should wear. He sighed.

 

“Nah, Fri. I’ll figure it out.” He ended up putting on a button up (blue with white stripes, because it reminded him of Steve) and black slacks. It was casual enough with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but he could roll them down and pull out the tie he had tucked in his back pocket if the situation called for something more formal. The Tony Stark he saw in his full-length mirror looked collected and well-groomed, and he supposed that was all he could really ask for.

 

“Time?” Tony asked, trying to decide if the addition of a few rings would make him look like some kind of mob boss.

 

“It’s 6:27.” 

 

Tony exhaled steadily. “Just in time to be fashionably late. Okay.” He flashed his own reflection a grin that was much more confident than he felt. “Let’s go.”

 

He met Steve and Bucky in the penthouse-turned-Avengers-war-room just a few minutes after 6:30. They were in outfits of a similar formality level to the one he’d chosen, much to his relief, and Tony couldn’t help but stop to admire them as he came into the room: Steve had his hair slicked back and coiffed in immaculate 1940’s style, which made Tony grin, and his button-up was a deep navy that suited him perfectly. Bucky was a little more casual, opting for a deep burgundy v-neck with a black blazer and tight black pants that made Tony’s mouth water. His hair was in his usual half-up, which softened the intensity of the look a little. They both turned as he made his way into the room from the elevator, not bothering to hide their smiles or the way their eyes raked down his body. 

 

Bucky reached out when he got within an arm’s length and pulled him in lightly to press a kiss beside Tony’s eye. His hand lingered on Tony’s arm, warm and surprisingly intimate, making Tony’s breath catch in his throat.

 

“Hey, doll.” Bucky said softly, just close enough for his breath to ghost across Tony’s cheek. “You look amazing.”

 

“You two don’t look so bad yourselves.” Tony smiled back at him, clearing his throat lightly to try and get his breathing back under control, then looked over at Steve and raised a questioning eyebrow. “So, what’s the big surprise? Friday wouldn’t give me any hints.”

 

Steve huffed a laugh. “And that comment right there is exactly why I asked her to make it classified.” He turned towards the outside door that led to the Quinjet landing pad and brought his hand up in a wide arc as if to say ‘ _ after you. _ ’ Tony’s eyebrows climbed, surprised, but he made his way towards the pad anyway. Parked next to the Quinjet outside was a sleek black skimmer ship, probably barely large enough to fit the three of them. Tony frowned.

 

“What  _ is _ that?” Tony asked. He didn’t recognize the propulsion system, which seemed to consist of a couple of nacelle-like structures that ran a little bit  _ Star Trek  _ for his tastes but nonetheless made his engineer’s fingers itch. “No, scratch that. If  _ I  _ don’t recognize it that means it’s some super-secret S.H.E.I.L.D. project and I probably don’t wanna know. So, new question, what the hell are you doing with a sexy beast like that and what does it have to do with our date?” Bucky burst out laughing at this, and Steve just grinned mischievously. 

 

“I may have told the quartermaster at S.H.I.E.L.D. that I needed it for a top-secret mission.” He admitted.

 

“Oh my god.” Tony shook his head, disbelieving. “You must have batted those baby blues pretty hard to pull that off.”

 

“He does excel at that.” Bucky offered. He let his eyes widen and face draw down in a perfect mockery of innocent solemnity. “I’ve seen folks stronger than me fall under the assault.” Then put his hand over his heart, soulfully mourning the imaginary soldiers that had been lost in the war of Steve’s wiles. Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the fond and exasperated smile on his lips.

 

“Are we going to go, or are you two going to spend the rest of the night waxing poetical about my eyes?” Steve opened the door to the landing pad, letting the rush of wind and city noise break into the quiet penthouse.

 

“They’re very nice eyes.” Tony said, as though weighing his options, but stepped forward to follow Steve onto the balcony nonetheless.

 

The three of them made their way out onto the delicately tapered arm of the tower, muggy summer heat making them all break a sweat immediately. The light was just beginning to take on the burnished edge of sunset, rich yellow combined with heat making the whole city seem like a gentle wave of honey had settled over it. The skyscrapers and city streets spread out from the ledge in all directions and reminded Tony of the view from the suit. Even when it had informational overlays on it, this top-down perspective on the world never failed to take his breath away. He followed his dates over to the skimmer ship, watching as Steve caused the cockpit to open with a vague wave of his hand. Tony had been right; there was barely enough room for three. He accepted Steve’s help clambering into the back seat with as much grace as he could muster. Bucky followed him in, settling close enough that their sides were pressed distractingly together from shoulder to knee, and Steve swung into the driver’s seat. 

 

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re headed to now you’ve got me in your clutches?” Tony asked as the skimmer lifted, feather-light, off the surface of the landing pad. He could hear the slight grind of the landing gear retracting but the engines appeared to be near-silent. He made a silent resolution to do some decidedly illegal ‘investigating’ into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s project files when they got back.

 

“You’ll just have to be patient, Tin Man.” Bucky teased, mischief very much in evidence in his smile and the glint of his eyes. “Promise you won’t be disappointed.” 

 

Steve flew them low over the metal jungle of the city, turning and weaving in delicate maneuvers that reminded Tony much more of his suit than any plane. The thing didn’t sound or feel all that fast, but they left the dense metropolis of New York behind surprisingly quickly. Steve kept the Atlantic on the right, glittering in the late summer sun and spreading out to the horizon like a promise. Its unchanging landscape provided a stark contrast to the dizzying blur of forested hills that whipped by on the left. 

 

After a little less than thirty minutes, the outskirts of Boston became visible through Steve’s windscreen. It rushed up to meet them and the slim plane slowed, eventually coming to a sedate landing on the roof of a skyscraper Tony was unfamiliar with. He raised an eyebrow at Bucky as Steve popped the top of the cockpit. Bucky just grinned at him and stood to lever himself out of the backseat and onto the rooftop. Tony missed his warmth immediately. 

 

As he followed Bucky’s example and slid carefully down the side of the ship to the ground, Tony was able to take stock of the scene in front of him. What was obviously the large rooftop patio of a fairly high-end restaurant had been cleared of all but one table, intimately set for three. Steve’s hand settled, warm and steadying, on Tony’s lower back as he steered Tony towards it. 

 

“What is this place?” Tony couldn’t resist asking. He’d been to Boston a few times, of course he had, but it wasn’t nearly as familiar to him as New York. The unfamiliar urban sprawl spread out around him with an unknown logic that kept him from placing his location. 

 

“Boston.” Bucky replied, the picture of innocence. Tony rolled his eyes while Bucky pulled out his chair for him. 

 

“I did figure that much out, actually.” Tony replied, dripping with exasperation. Bucky’s grin only deepened. “And we’re in Boston because?” 

 

Steve took pity on him. “This is Gianni’s.” He explained, settling into his own chair across the round table. Tony noted in an offhand way that they were placed along the table’s circumference with exactly equal amounts of space between them and wondered briefly if it was intentional. Steve went on. “Do you remember the mission I got sent on late last year? I was gone over a month?” Tony nodded. “They set me up in a little apartment in this building for surveillance. I tried this place the first night and ended up coming back almost every day ‘cause the food was so good.” He smiled in fond reminiscence. Tony gave a soft  _ ah _ in understanding as he accepted the glass of champagne Bucky had poured for him from the iced bottle on the table. He swirled the delicate liquid around his flute, processing this information.

 

“Why come all the way to Boston, though?” He asked curiously, taking a thoughtful sip of the champagne. “Not that I don’t love a field trip, but it seems like a lot of effort just to take me to dinner.” Steve and Bucky shared a look that might have been exasperation.

 

“First of all, there’s no such thing as too much effort to take you to dinner.” Bucky started, raising a quelling eyebrow when it looked like Tony was going to argue with him. Tony shivered at the absolute steel he found behind that gaze, the little glimpse of the force of nature he knew bucky could be. His argument died in his throat. “Second of all, it’s because we wanted to do this right. What do you get the ‘billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist’ that has everything?” Tony shook his head, unsure.

 

“A memory.” Steve supplied. His eyes were soft when Tony turned towards him. Tony felt like he could fall right into the endless blue depths of them. “Something special to you. Something only you can give.” 

 

A quiet “oh” was about all Tony could manage at that. His heart seemed as though it couldn’t decide between lodging firmly in his throat and doing wild backflips in his stomach, and he took a steadying breath. All sorts of responses sprung to his mind, examined and discarded at a rapidfire pace as being too trite for a statement so raw and honest. He eventually settled on a simple “thank you.” From Steve and Bucky’s answering smiles, brighter and more brilliant than the amber rays from the West, it seemed to have been the right thing to say.

 

Before long Gianni himself, an older man with a boisterous personality and a thick Italian accent, appeared through a door on the far side of the rooftop with menus and house-baked bread. He caught up with Steve enthusiastically as Tony and Bucky looked over the menu, chuckling to themselves at how the man seemed to dote on Steve. Everything sounded absolutely delicious, and Tony’s stomach growled rather impressively as he perused the mouthwatering offerings. (All he’d eaten that day was the wrap). Eventually he told Gianni to bring his recommendation, which seemed to delight him, and they all settled in to dip the still-warm bread into herbed oil. They kept the conversation light as they nibbled bread and sipped champagne*, but Tony could sense that the mood of the evening had shifted somewhat. There was a certain undercurrent of excitement and anticipation that thrummed behind the playful banter and casual conversation. It simmered low in Tony’s belly and burned back at him in Steve and Bucky’s eyes. 

 

*(Or at least, Tony and Bucky did. Never drink and pilot priceless stealth flyers, kids.)

 

The receding sunset was finally giving way to the bruised brush of nighttime when Ginanni brought up their food, which was every bit as delicious as Steve had promised. He lit a number of candles in jars on the table, and they offered a warm illumination as the three of them made their way through piles of pasta, spiced meats cooked to perfection, and a large communal bowl of salad tossed in a delicate balsamic. They talked and laughed as they ate, soaking in the rare luxury of privacy while they enjoyed each others’ company. They lingered long after Gianni cleared their plates and brought up a decadent vanilla panna cotta to share. They let the light drain out of the sky entirely, leaving them with their candle-lit slice of heaven and the city’s star-studded-velvet spread out around them. Tony could hardly remember a time he had felt this completely and utterly content.

 

Unfortunately, everything ended eventually. Tony let himself be led back to the flyer a little reluctantly, climbing into the back seat once again. The warmth he felt when Bucky slid in next to him was only partly due to the champagne (he hadn’t had much, but he told himself that was the reason anyway). Unlike on the way there, Bucky’s warm hand slid over Tony’s where it rested on his thigh, slowly, as though asking for permission. Tony laced his fingers through Bucky’s and the smile he got in return made his head swim.

 

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you two.” Tony admitted as Steve turned the craft skyward with the same effortlessness as before. 

 

“Why’s that?” Steve asked from the front, voice warm and amused.

 

Tony shook his head, as if clearing it. His entire being felt concentrated on the hand clasped tightly with Bucky’s. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out you manage to turn it all on its head.” Tony explained languidly. “Thought Steve was such a stone-cold hardass when we first met. Still do, but I like it now.” He winked at Bucky, whose face lit with a wolfish amusement. He swore the tips of Steve’s ears turned pink where they were visible on either side of the pilot’s headrest. “I mean, a few days ago I watched you beat each other bloody. Tonight you’re all... soft. I feel like you’re giving me whiplash.” He shook his head again.

 

“Soft, huh?” Steve said. His tone was loaded with some heavy meaning Tony couldn’t quite place. He went on, “You know, I feel the same way about you if I’m honest.” He admitted. “You were so... spiky, at first. You hated me and everything I stood for so much. Between the literal iron exterior and the walls you put up to keep everyone from getting close I doubted we could work together successfully, much less be friends.” 

 

Tony looked down, a little guiltily. Bucky gently squeezed his hand.

 

“But the more I get to know you,” Steve continued, “and learn what you’ve been through, the more I understand. Getting closer to you, earning your trust and seeing you with the people you love, it was like you were a whole different person. A good person.” His voice trailed off.

 

“Tough exoskeleton, soft squishy insides.” Bucky said, contemplatively. “Our own little hermit crab.” Tony groaned, and the moment was broken. They spent the rest of the short flight coming up with increasingly far-fetched nicknames for each other. No matter how wildly they gesticulated and how much they pretended to bicker over the truly awful monikers they managed to come up with, Tony and Bucky’s hands never budged from where they were clasped together.

 

After they’d landed, the three of them made their way back through the darkened penthouse and onto their shared floor. They stopped outside Tony’s door, just across the hallway from Steve’s. He and Bucky seemed just as hesitant as Tony to say goodnight, just as fearful of asking for more. Eventually, Tony worked up his courage.

 

“I know it’s not traditional for the first date, but.” His words seemed to stick in his throat, but he pushed on: “Would you... like to join me?” He winced, but caught the twin flashes of hunger and uncertainty on the other mens’ faces. Bucky reached up with his metal hand, slowly, and cupped Tony’s face with heartbreaking gentleness.

 

“Are you sure?” He said, brushing his thumb slowly across Tony’s cheek. “We don’t have to... go any faster than you want.” Tony looked into his concerned eyes, then Steve’s caring ones. 

 

“Honestly?” Tony swallowed, hard. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

 

Bucky drew him closer and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took 10,000 years and I apologize. Hopefully it makes up for it in length?
> 
> But hey!! Porn next time!! Whoo!


	6. The Way They Love (Pt 2)

Tony had been around the block a few times. Quite a few different blocks, if he were honest, and some of them he’d been around often enough that his feet had probably worn grooves in the sidewalk. He’d kissed all kinds of people in all kinds of places and situations. He was a kiss connoisseur. So, when Bucky drew him close and kissed him there in the hallway in front of his bedroom, the world didn’t fall away from beneath his feet. The heavenly choirs didn’t descend to shed divine light and sing ‘hallelujah.’ It was a kiss. A really good, very  _ skilled _ kiss, but just a kiss nonetheless. Bucky’s lips were soft and surprisingly gentle as they were pressed to Tony’s, his beard rough where their faces dragged lightly against one another along the chin. His thumb still moved in slow, soothing circles along Tony’s jaw, a caress as much as a grounding point for both of them.

 

No, what made Tony’s heart stick in his throat and his breath flee entirely from his lungs was the look in Bucky’s eyes when they finally pulled away. It was a burning and undeniable desire. Not for Tony’s wealth or his power, which he was used to seeing in his bed mates, or for Tony’s body, though there was that too, but for him. Just for him. Tony had to take a deep, shuddering breath to try to get himself back together. 

 

Steve’s voice cut across his hazy awareness as he gazed into Bucky’s eyes, the deepest and roughest Tony had ever heard it. “Mind if I cut in?” He said. Bucky slid to the side after one last stolen kiss, not out of Tony’s arms entirely but enough that Steve could press close and take Tony’s face in both his hands. He started gentle, as Bucky had been, but quickly deepened the kiss with the fervor of drowning man having spotted the shore. Tony fought to give back as much as he got, but Steve’s kiss was intoxicatingly insistent. He quickly found himself clinging with one arm on each man’s back, letting Steve take and take, barely keeping up and more turned on from a kiss than he could ever remember being. Bucky gently moved Tony’s arm from his waist and slid further around, bringing his mouth down to scrape his teeth gently down the side of Tony’s throat from behind him.

 

An embarrassing cut-off moan managed to escape from Tony at that, and he was suddenly reminded that they were making out in the hallway on the shared floor where anyone could come along and find them. He pulled away from Steve reluctantly. “We should--  _ oh _ , we should take this inside.” He managed, as Steve immediately took the opportunity to attack the side of his neck that Bucky wasn’t currently attached to. Tony was quickly learning that Steve was not shy about using his teeth. Bucky reached out behind himself for the handle to Tony’s rooms, a little awkward due to how closely they were standing to the door but apparently unwilling to move his mouth away from Tony to see what he was doing. He managed to find it after a few fumbling seconds and they all stumbled through into the darkened apartment, which Friday kindly lit with a romantic glow as they entered. Tony barely noticed. “Come on,” he insisted, tugging them along the hallway from the entryway, “Bedroom’s this way.” They didn’t have to be told twice.

 

Tony had rarely been so glad to see his ridiculously huge custom-made bed in his life. It would provide more than enough room for three grown men, plus extra, a luxury even he knew was a rarity. He turned to face Steve and Bucky as he got them into the room and was immediately set upon again, this time with Bucky at his front. Bucky’s kisses had grown bolder as Tony had made his consent glaringly clear and was now almost biting at Tony’s mouth, worrying already-bruised lips in a way that made Tony’s head spin. Tony pushed at the lapels of Bucky’s blazer, unable to get very far with Bucky’s arms clutching at his waist. “This should come off.” He insisted. Reluctantly, the three of them pulled away from each other to try and shed clothes as quickly as possible.

 

Tony’s eyes roamed shamelessly over the seemingly endless expanses of skin being revealed to him. He’d seen them both shirtless-- he’d even seen Steve naked one time, in a communal shower after a fight-- but he’d never been allowed to actually  _ look _ before. And now that he could, he intended to soak it all in. 

 

Steve caught onto him quickly. He’d stripped swiftly, efficiently, and dropped his clothes in a neatish pile on a chair before turning back to Tony. His eyes lit with amusement as he saw Tony only partially undressed, thoroughly distracted from unbuckling his belt by the display. He stalked over to Tony with predatory eyes that caused a shiver to race up and down his spine, hands coming down to knock Tony’s away from his belt. “Let me.” He said, voice low, and he kissed Tony again while deft fingers pulled the belt from its loops and worked both pants and briefs down Tony’s hips. 

 

Once they were all finally and gloriously naked, Steve walked him over to the bed and laid him out on his back on top of the plush comforter. He climbed slowly onto the bed on Tony’s right on his knees, and Bucky did the same on his left, both looking down on him in consideration and appraisal. It made Tony feel pinned to the mattress under their gaze, not unpleasantly, but surprisingly strong for the fact that they were barely touching him. The intensity of their hungry gazes quickly made his cheeks heat and he tried to lift himself up on his elbows to make some flippant comment to dispel the tension in the air. Both men had hands on him immediately, firm but not forcing, gently easing him back down. 

 

“Just admiring you, doll.” Bucky whispered, bringing his lips down to slowly kiss along the expanse of Tony’s scar-striped chest and around his and Steve’s fingers where they settled low on his pecs. “Let us take care of you?” 

 

Tony was not, on the whole, a passive lover. He loved bringing his partners pleasure in whatever ways he could come up with (and he was nothing if not creative...), reveling in each moment of ecstasy he could extract before he and his bedmate inevitably parted ways. He prided himself on being exactly what his partner needed in that moment. However, looking into Steve and Bucky’s eyes in that moment, he realized that he wanted nothing more than to lie back and let them take care of him. They were each storms in their own right, raging and unpredictable and breathtaking, and he wanted to let go and drift wherever those winds would take him. Besides, it wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t warned him.

 

Conflicting instincts warred within him for a moment; the part of him that wanted to let go was disrupted by the part of him that hated losing control of any situation. They told him to surge up from Steve and Bucky’s hold,* to grab them and kiss them and turn this into something much simpler and easier and less honest than this terrifyingly vulnerable dance they were doing now. He looked up into Steve and Bucky’s eyes, warm and sincere and full of desire, and told his instincts to go fuck themselves.

 

*(Tony was fully aware that they could hold him there by force if they wanted to. He also knew without a shadow of a doubt that they never, ever would, unless he specifically asked them to. Even in his fevered and distracted state, he couldn’t help but note just how that thought affected him, and made a mental note that if this didn’t crash and burn he’d have to ask them to do so some other time.)

 

“Yeah.” Tony whispered back to Bucky after a tense moment of quiet. “Okay.” He was rewarded immediately with more kisses along his jaw and his neck, and warm hands that slowly slid along his arms to encircle his wrists and bring them up to rest on either side of his head. He felt utterly open and vulnerable, completely naked with hands pinned to the mattress, two trained killing machines hovering over him to scrape their teeth along any patch of skin they could find. Tony couldn’t think of a time he’d ever been this turned on. He writhed and gasped at the feeling of their mouths on him, at the way their free hands moved possessively across his chest, his hips, purposefully ignoring his weeping cock where it stood hard and neglected against his stomach. 

 

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to move a little faster?” Tony said, strained tone turning to a gasp near the end as Steve bit down gently on the shell of his ear. He felt rather than saw Bucky’s grin against the delicate inside of his wrist. 

 

“Think we can probably manage that.” Bucky responded. His hand closed suddenly over Tony’s cock, stroking slowly but firmly, causing Tony to moan almost uncontrollably. Steve swallowed his cries directly, kissing him breathless until his entire world narrowed down to the points of contact between the three of them. 

 

“I’d like to finger you.” Steve whispered against his lips, kissing him through the choked cry that phrase elicited. “If that’s alright.”

 

“ _ God _ yes,  _ please _ .” Tony answered fervently. He wriggled the wrist that Steve currently had pinned beneath his iron grip just enough to point to the set of sleek drawers beside the bed. “Bottom drawer.”

 

Steve nodded. “Don’t move.” He said. It didn’t have the kind of commanding quality Tony knew from extensive field experience that it could take on but it made him shiver anyway. Steve released his hand and shifted out of Tony’s field of vision as he crawled over to the side of the bed. Bucky was still moving his hand slowly, methodically, staring right down into Tony’s eyes with pure mischief written all over his features as he took Tony apart piece by piece, and Tony let himself get lost in the sensations for just a moment. He could feel Steve’s weight shift across the mattress back towards where Bucky was stroking him. Steve took Tony’s leg gently in one hand and brought it up until it was propped up on the bed, then did the same with the other, making Tony whimper as he was splayed wide open for Steve’s hungry stare.

 

Steve didn’t say anything as he popped open the cap of the lube he’d found stashed in Tony’s bedside drawer. He squeezed some onto his fingers then scooted closer to Tony’s exposed ass, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of a knee. “Ready?” he said.

 

“ _ Yes. _ ” Tony insisted. He felt like he would die if things kept going like this much longer. Bucky’s hand on him was so  _ good _ and yet nowhere near enough, deliberately keeping him on edge without even a hint of relief. Two sets of blue eyes burned holes into him as one warm, slick finger began circling Tony’s hole and he threw his head back against the soft pillows, overwhelmed. Bucky followed of course, sucking the sweat-slick skin just above Tony’s adam’s apple. Steve’s finger slipped gently inside him and he let out an unashamed groan. 

 

The next few minutes slipped by in a haze of heat and slickness and the sharp nip of Bucky’s teeth along his already mottled throat. Steve kissed along the tops of Tony’s knees and thighs as he slowly spread him open, carefully adding one finger at a time to the wet slide between Tony’s legs. Throughout all of it Bucky’s hand on his cock never changed its pace or grip, the steady rhythm of it radiating throughout it Tony’s body like a second heartbeat. Tony just writhed and panted through it, feeling his coherence slipping away with his sanity.

 

Eventually, once Steve had three of his thick super-soldier fingers pumping into Tony with little resistance and Tony had been reduced to little more than a groaning mess, he slipped his fingers free and spread both hands across the back of Tony’s thighs as if to steady him. Tony wasn’t sure if they actually said something that he missed or if they were close enough for their communication to be near-telepathic but suddenly hands here moving him, urging him to sit up while Bucky settled upright against the headboard behind him. They spun him around carefully until he was propped up on his knees, legs bracketing Bucky’s thighs, Steve pressed close behind him. 

 

Bucky ran his hands slowly down the swell of Tony’s chest, across his abs, finally settling on the jut of his hips. He put on his best lazy grin and asked, “You gonna ride me, baby?” In any other context Tony would have bristled at the moniker, but right now hands were burning brands into his hips from both sides and the obvious affection behind the words just made him shiver with want.

 

“Please.” Was all he said, unsure if he was asking for permission or assistance in making his shaking limbs move. Bucky’s grin widened, hungry and wolfish. He leaned over to grab at the condoms Steve had apparently pulled out of Tony’s drawer earlier without him noticing, ripping one off and tossing it to Steve to put on before tearing one off for himself. He tore it open and worked it onto himself steadily, tossed the wrapper off the side of the bed to be dealt with later, and drizzled a little more of the lube over himself before moving to grab at Tony once again. Limbs moved around Tony then like the swelling tide, so simultaneous he couldn’t quite tell which one of them had started it. Strong arms supported him as he lifted himself up fully and scooted forward. He let his hands fall to Bucky’s wide shoulders for balance. Someone’s hand-- had to be Steve’s, Bucky’s were both on his hips-- carefully guided Bucky’s covered cock to Tony’s entrance, but waited for him to make the next move.

 

Tony looked right into Bucky’s face, pupils blown wide and plush lips slightly party in anticipation, and lowered himself ever so slightly onto the fat cock beneath him. All three of them groaned together. Tony felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs in the best possible way, and he sunk down another couple inches. Steve’s prep job had been thorough, and he opened up easily enough as he slowly worked his way flush to Bucky’s hips with little rocking movements that drove all of them mad. Once he was sitting fully in Bucky’s lap he let his head fall back onto Steve’s shoulder, very glad that he had the solid weight behind him to keep him upright.

 

They took a few seconds to catch their breath. Bucky’s eyes were closed, face screwed up in a look of nearly pained rapture. Steve’s hands were everywhere: roaming across his stomach, his hips, the place where he and Bucky were joined. 

 

“God you look good like this.” He murmured into Tony’s ear. “Blissed out and moaning, letting us take care of you. Gorgeous.” 

 

“You better be careful with that kinda praise, Cap.” Tony responded, words more than a little slurred. “Might start to get used to it.”  

 

“Good.” Steve said, simply. Then he carefully slung one arm around Tony’s waist, gripping below a thigh with the other, and gently undulated to pull Tony upwards a few inches before dropping back down. Tony choked; Bucky moaned. Steve did it again, and again, picking up speed and intensity as they went. Bucky’s hands had never left his hips and now they held him in a vice-like grip that was sure to leave bruises for days. The dull pain only added to the fervor as the three of them moved, Tony using his hands on Bucky’s shoulders to push himself up further and leverage himself down harder every time.

 

They moved in a symphony of moans, sweat dripping onto Tony’s ridiculously expensive sheets and not one of them caring whatsoever. Steve’s clothed cock drug distractingly over his the swell of his ass and the curve of his lower back. At one point Tony felt like he might explode if he didn’t relieve some of the pressure of his arousal and moved a hand to touch himself, only to have his wrist gripped once again by Steve. 

 

“No.” Steve commanded. “Not yet.” Tony sobbed a little, far beyond meaningless concepts like dignity, but returned his hand to its resting place. 

 

“Stevie.” Bucky ground out then, voice gone to gravel and looking nearly as undone as Tony felt. 

 

“Go on, Buck.” Steve responded, picking up the pace and slamming Tony down with a force that made him shake with how good it felt. Bucky thrust up to meet Tony’s hips in a few last frenzied thrusts before tightening his grip on Tony’s hips even more and holding him there as he threw his own head back, moaning loud and low. 

 

Tony was still out of his mind for a few moments, struggling against Bucky and Steve’s grip in a desperate attempt to chase his own release. Hands petted across his chest, through his hair, gently bringing him down from the precipice until he was limp and spilling tears down his cheeks (he couldn’t remember when that had happened, and he couldn’t bring himself to care) but no longer moving desperately.

 

“Please.” He begged, unashamed, when one of Steve’s hands swept close to his weeping and neglected cock. “Please.”

 

“Shh baby.” Bucky seemed to have regained his powers of speech, “We’ll take care of you.” Again strong arms were leveraging him around, supporting him as his heavy and clumsy limbs struggled to navigate. Bucky shuffled around behind him, removing the condom and leaning back against the headboard once more.They settled him on his back, propped up and pressed flush to Bucky’s chest. Steve was on his knees on the mattress in front of him now. He seemed far more collected than he had any right to be considering, but Tony could see from the look in his eyes that he was just as desperate as Tony for this. He tortured them both for a minute by kissing Tony slowly and deeply, erections pressing together in a way that made them both gasp, before pulling back.

 

“I’m gonna fuck you now, Tony.” It wasn’t a question, but seemed to leave room for objection.

 

“Yes.” Tony answered, grabbing at Steve’s shoulders and trying to pull him down until their bodies were pressed together again. Steve looped his arms beneath Tony’s thighs before complying, practically bending Tony in half and making him groan before pressing his lips to Tony’s once again. His cock found Tony’s entrance then, slipping in easily. He offered no mercy. His hips slammed forward relentlessly, driving deep into Tony and making him howl with pleasure. Bucky’s hands worked their way down to Tony’s nipples, pinching and teasing, before moving to take hold of Tony’s aching cock. 

 

“Please!” He begged again. It was ripped from his throat as he writhed, completely out of his mind with pleasure, only held in place by Steve’s weight and the arms keeping him pinned. 

 

“I don’t think Stevie’s gonna last long.” Bucky said casually. He nibbled at Tony’s ear while both hands worked him over mercilessly. “Come on, baby. Show us how good you can be. Come for us.”

 

Tony did. His back arched as far as it could sandwiched between the other two, something like a scream climbing its way out of his throat. Steve fucked him through it, hips moving like pistons as Tony went rigid then completely and utterly limp. His head fell back onto Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“Beautiful.” Bucky said, almost wondrously, looking down into Tony’s blissed-out eyes. “Both of you. Absolutely gorgeous.”

 

Tony just smiled, tired but happy beyond words. “Steve.” He moaned as the pace of the thrusts increased and grew erratic, reaching up to thread his fingers through golden hair. Every thrust moved him further into Bucky, shifting them both like a buoy in a storm-tossed sea. A few more thrusts and Steve tipped over the edge, biting down hard into the side of Tony’s neck. Tony cried out, overstimulated and impossibly aroused though he wouldn’t be ready for another round for quite a while. He huffed a laugh as Steve partially collapsed on top of him. He was folded nearly in half and trapped in a supersoldier sandwich, sticky and sweaty and more content than he could remember being in a long time. 

 

Soon, they would have to move. He would have to get cleaned up (he imagined Steve would probably do that for him; he was a gentleman like that, and Tony wasn’t sure his legs could support his own weight at the moment), probably change the sheets, and convince these two to cuddle in a slightly more comfortable way. For now, though, he was content to lie there, sheltered and desired, nurturing the little bloom of love beginning to form in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness. This is by FAR the dirtiest thing I have ever written, though I think it's probably pretty tame all things considered. I hope you like it, and thank you for your patience!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! You've really been amazing with your responses to this fic. 
> 
> This fic is 100% un-beta'd, so thanks for being patient with me. <3


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